What Happens Next
by We'reTheOnesWhoWrite
Summary: Rick and Michonne are both separated in their grief over the loss of their friend and brother, Daryl. Is their love strong enough to surmount any tragedy? Can their be life in death?
1. Chapter 1

**This is our Second collaborative prompt and we're so excited about who we have on board for this sad but hopeful story! This delicate narrative is being expressed by Tigerwalk with Chapter 1, followed by Sophiasown and then Cranesinthesky will close things off.**

 **Chapter2 will be up soon!**

 **Please check out all of Tigerwalk's engaging, beautifully written stories on her Fan Fiction page.**

 **Enjoy**

 **We're The Ones Who Write**

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"Rick," Michonne called gently, through the partially open door to their bedroom. The sun had been wrangling its laborers outside for more than a few hours now, but with the heavy drapes pulled on the windows across from their bed, he was able to continue to ignore its demands. Technically his duties around the community started at noon, but lately he'd been sleeping until closer and closer to his necessary start time. It wasn't that he was getting more sleep; she might actually be thankful for that, despite what accounted for it. But, no, she knew the later he rose meant the longer he had spent awake during the night- reliving it.

"Rick," she said again, this time with a little more volume. She pushed through the doorway, crossing the room to where he lay, looking powerful even in his prone position. His face was buried in the pillow, a mess of brown curls the only thing visible against the stark, white case. She touched his upper back, running her fingers firmly between the blades of his solid shoulders. He stirred at the sensation of her hand on his skin, shifting beneath the light weight blanket. The movement caused the covers to slip further down his body, revealing the worn jeans he hadn't bothered to shed before submitting to another torturous round of attempted slumber.

"Baby." She sat beside him, pressing her lips to his hair and he turned his head, the tiny sliver of light from the window causing him to squint like he was staring at the sun. "Talk to me."

Rick reluctantly pushed up on his forearm, looking past her to search out the alarm clock on the bedside table. Seeing the time, he sighed and pushed a heavy hand through his hair before turning onto his side. "I've gotta get ready," he rasped. "I need to be down at the gate in half an hour."

"Take the day," she said, quietly. "I'll tell them you're not coming." She'd said it almost every day since, but she hoped maybe today would be the day he would agree. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes from falling shut again, and she knew he longed to finally get some rest.

He sighed again, flopping on his back and resting an arm casually over his eyes. He was still for a few moments and she thought maybe he had fallen back asleep, but the slight twitch of his lip in prelude to his answer gave him away. "I need to keep goin'," he finally said. "I was the one who said it: that we could...that we would. So now I gotta."

"Rick," she whispered, laying herself down in the spot beside him and draping an arm over his torso. She scooched closer until she could place her head on his chest and he brought the hand he had been shielding himself with down around her shoulder. "You will keep going...but that doesn't mean you can't take some time first. Time to heal, to process. He was family. No one expects you to be strong right now, to take this in stride."

"A lotta people lost someone," he said, stoically, unmoved by her justification. "A lot."

"Daryl believed in this as much as you did. He wanted this future for Carl, for Judith, for Maggie's baby. He believed it. Everyone we lost believed it."

"They believed it enough to die for it," he said, his voice filled with longing, and regret, and the type of self-loathing she had prayed he wasn't capable of anymore. "They gave their lives for a war I started, and here I am."

"Yes. So what are you going to do with that?" she urged. "You didn't survive this thing to hide from what we're trying to build. Take the time you need; heal, process, but don't hide from us."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing in a long pull of air and clenching his eyes shut, just in time to contain the physical manifestation of his pain. "I gotta be at the gate," he said, kissing her forehead and releasing her from his embrace. He rolled to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side, his bare feet pushing into the plush rug as he stood.

Michonne watched him walk away, retiring to the bathroom to shower where she knew he would release some of what was churning in his head, growling and cursing into the mercifully muffling stream of water. She knew because it couldn't completely deafen the sound to her ears. She rolled over onto her back and let the tears come. She wasn't quite sure who they were for anymore, but they kept coming, whether they were assigned a name or not.

She finally dragged herself away from the vigil she was being pulled to keep, reluctantly offering him the solitude he sought. She made her way to the kitchen to drum up some coffee and maybe a little food. He would come back to her, she thought, nodding her head to herself. She knew this, but it didn't make it any easier to keep herself from throwing a lasso around him and attempting to pull him back now.

He'd been here before. She'd seen his pain engulf him, beckon him like a false lover with the promise of redemption for an exacted price, but she'd never seen it beat him. Even now she knew that it wasn't just the death of his friend, his brother, that lodged in his chest and refused to let go. Rick hadn't been foolish about this endeavor, he knew the consequences. No, it wasn't the loss of Daryl, but the way it happened. A way that left just the right amount of 'what ifs' and 'if he'd onlys' to haunt him. Death was inevitable in this world; loss, pain. But careless death? Preventable death? That was what was supposed to separate them from the rest of the world. They didn't go out like that- not anymore. But Daryl had.

There had been a plan, but eventually Daryl's own well deserved lust for revenge got the better of him. Circumstances had changed, Rick knew it too, but he wanted to forge ahead while his brother wanted to amend the strategy. If he'd listened and gone with him, if he'd been a better leader and convinced him not to go, if he hadn't started this in the first place. Rick had expressed all of those sentiments to her, through gritted teeth and a strangled voice. He couldn't make sense of it, where it had broken down, and more than that, he couldn't reconcile that the last time he saw his best friend they were at odds. It was a suicide mission alone, but that's how he had let him go to the Sanctuary, a faulty stick of dynamite and rage his only weapons. Now Rick was on his own mission to punish himself for the transgression.

She heard him on the hardwood floor, his boots clomping heavy steps her way, and she knew he wasn't going to take her advice, and stay. Not today. He came around the corner, dressed in layers for the cold day, and she took a deep breath at the sight of him. His eyes were dim, like the winter sky without the full force of the sun to sharpen its cerulean hue, and the dark stubble that had been filling in over the past few days of neglect, was again being left to its own devices. She noticed he was back to using the handmade notch on his belt, yet his pants still hung low on his hips, highlighting the fact that eating didn't seem to be much of a priority for him. He slept through breakfast, worked through lunch and often found ways to avoid the shared dinners that alternated between the houses in Alexandria.

Michonne stood when he approached, handing him a plate with an egg and a cut up apple, served with the most stern look she could muster. She wasn't budging on this one. He took it begrudgingly, turning the meal into no more than a few large bites, then dropped his plate into the sink. He used a napkin to wipe at his mouth, then filled a glass of water, taking it down in two large gulps.

"I'll see you in awhile," he said. He rested a hand on her hip, physically reaching out for her where he couldn't verbally, and she returned the gesture. She stepped into him, her hands smoothing the soft fabric of his dark plaid shirt, while he spoke to her with his eyes.

She reached up to stroke his cheek and he turned his face in her hand, letting his eyes close as if he were memorizing the feel of her skin on his. "Be careful," she whispered.

He leaned in to leave her with a kiss that told her that he promised, that he was sorry, and that he was still with her even when he wasn't. She exhaled, answering with her own stare that said she trusted him, that she forgave him and, though she missed him, she would wait. Then he turned and left.

It was dark when Rick got home, and Michonne was in their room, reading by lantern light. It wasn't quite late enough to go to sleep, but the cold weather made it more logical to spend the evenings huddled under the blankets of their own beds, rather than trying to keep the entire house heated. She'd put Judith to bed and said good night to Carl as he retired to his own room. She heard Rick walking through the house, stopping briefly in the kitchen, and she smiled at him taking another meal. After awhile, he found his way to her.

"How was your shift?" she asked, setting aside her book to follow him with her eyes as he moved around the room, divesting himself of the day.

"It was...quiet."

"Quiet is good."

"It is."

He shed the last of his clothes, and crawled into bed naked beside her. He didn't speak; he didn't have to. She missed him even when they were face to face, but in the evenings, when he curled an arm around her waist and his lips found their place on her breasts, her belly, everywhere, she could forget for a moment just how far away he was.

Sex had become as much of an indulgent habit as his late mornings. Maybe he was trying to put off what he knew would come when he closed his eyes to sleep, or maybe he was substituting one closeness for another. It could be he just wanted to remind himself he was still alive. Either way, she welcomed it, sliding down into the bed so he could move above her. His frame nearly covered her completely and as she settled beneath his warm embrace, she remembered the safety, both physical and emotional, that he offered her. She did her best to return it, clutching at his hair with her fingers and accepting his silent monologue of intimate ministrations without prodding him or making demands. He felt good on top of her, inside her, and finally close to her and she wouldn't ask for any more right now.

He slipped his hand into her hair, gently tugging until she bared her neck to him and he pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat. The scruff from his unkempt face burned her skin as he devoured her hungrily, while positioning himself between her legs.

"I love you," she whispered, as he pushed into her like a plug tapping into its energy source, streaming everything he needed from her through their connection.

He sucked in a deep breath, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he thrust and focused on the physical gratification.

"I love you, Rick," she said, without any expectation of the return just yet. She was urging him on, coaxing him to release his fire inside of her so it wouldn't burn him up.

"Michonne," he grunted as he finally let go, the force of his last bruising thrust nearly knocking her into the headboard. He collapsed, panting in her arms and she held him so tightly, her arms began to shake with the exertion of her muscles. "I love you too," he said, when his breathing had settled. "God I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Here is the second chapter of What Happens Next. The next installment comes from Sophiasown. This talented writer loves to bring humor and happiness to even the heavy hitting plots lines. Continue on this engaging story with chapter 2 by Sophiasown, and look for chapter 3 from Cranesinthesky coming soon!

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Michonne roused from a deep sleep to the loud banging on their bedroom door, she hastily glanced at the clock beside the bed and winced at the attack of the glare that hit her in the eyes. The sun had long since greeted them with strokes of its rays cutting through the room but the two tired souls were ignorant to its debut. Rick's strong arm rested over her belly like a lover's guard and she had to gently remove it to focus on the time which read 8:15 am. She shook herself fully awake, disappointed she had slept in. Sleeping in was not a luxury she endulged in, especially these days.

As of late her body's tiredness seemed to overtake her in large doses and there wasn't anything much she could do about it. She craved sleep and it seemed like it had overdosed her this morning.

"Michonne?" Carl called again concern laced in his tone, reminding her what pulled her from sleep in the first place. His voice sounded faint from the outside and she sought her unused voice to return some normalcy to him.

"I'm coming. Is everything okay?" She searched the floor for her shirt and jeans.

When Rick finally got to bed last night, he filled her in briefly on his day. Their conversations had become more routine than she was accustomed to. She indulged him, not wanting to miss any opening he gave her to his afflictions. It was a pain she wanted to share equally with him but she was still a window washer to his contrition, only able to touch him from the outside. After he briefed her on the wall expansion and the new guarding posts, he reached for her urgently and their bodies met in a cyclone of need where heat stripped away their clothes and desire tore at their pain. No words were required for the release, he _spoke_ to her in a language only their bodies understood.

Michonne knew it was the one time in his day he felt intact and because he wasn't opening up to her like he usually did, she craved the connection too. There was still a wall between them but she refused to view it as insurmountable. They were still a natural force even in their silence; coming together still produced lightning. Which would explain her overslept state.

"Judy is calling for you. Should I bring her in?"

She and Judith had a fun, albeit simple routine every morning as they prepared for their day. Guilt washed over her at not getting to her babygirl on time. She glimpsed at Rick's naked form next to her and opted to go to Judith instead. He was still a few hours away from sobriety. Sleep had been his other lover for a while now. He seemed to get the reprieve he needed from slumber that not even their once unencumbered connection could give him.

She was glad he had a momentary amnesty from his grief, even if it was eating her up inside, causing her physical body to be just as drained as her heart.

"I'll come get her in five minutes Carl." She responded, then heard the growing teen march down the staircase. She leaned back on the pillow as she finished buttoning her favorite purple shirt, taking a needed breath before the demands of the day wreaked havoc on her tired body and soul. Her lethargy was beginning to concern her and she hoped she wasn't coming down with something. Now would not be the time. Everybody had jobs to do and above all Rick needed her, even if he couldn't say so right now.

… **.**

He was maneuvering the truck with the lumber they found at a nearby scrap yard to the new expansion area, when a loud voice caught his attention. A flustered Tara was flagging at him to stop the truck. They were inside the walls, he was driving at a snail's pace, taking into consideration the kids that sometimes played in the streets. His heavy booted foot landed on the brakes and the truck stopped close enough for him to stick his head out the window.

"What is it?" He asked, hoping it was another problem he could throw himself into fixing. Restoring doors and windows helped him feel useful and allowed his thoughts to stay on task. The more things he busied his mind with, the less empty he would feel about the absence of his brother, the less of a burden his grief would be on Michonne. He could handle the sympathy and even the accusatory glances from the community he lead as he arbitrated Daryl's death with his conscience but he couldn't deal with _that_ look from Michonne, it would break him.

"It's Michonne. I was over at your house and she just fainted. Aaron has Judith and I took her to the infirmary. She didn't even want us to tell you. She insists she's fine."

Panic gripped him with its cold, dreadful hands. The terror in Tara's voice and the worry in her ramble set him on edge. More guilt balanced with fear at the sudden rush of news. He promised he would be home for lunch but the tasks at hand absorbed him, trading his hunger for work for a non-working appetite.

"What do you mean she fainted?" His voice had found clearance, she appeared normal when he left home that morning. Although he wasn't sure what normal looked like anymore. He placed the truck in park. By the time he hopped out and headed in the direction of the infirmary he was four paces ahead of Tara and she had to jog to catch up with him.

"She's with Rosita. She's probably ok by now." Her resonance was unconvincing.

When he approached the house they utilised as their hospital, he walked straight in; his gait fast and determined. He entered the back room that held two beds, two cots and some medical equipment when he saw her lying on the bed with her eyes closed. Rosita was in the corner dropping some oils into a bottle.

He looked at her before he announced his presence, she was like sleeping beauty only her parlor was pale and he chided himself for not picking up she may have been ill sooner.

Michonne had more than taken up his slack at home and with their extended family within the past couple weeks. He took it slightly for granted she was doing okay too. She had the strength of a warrior that he often envied but it didn't render her unaffected by their recent tragedy. She was more overworked than he thought; drowning herself in the things she could control.

"Michonne.." Her name a desperate whisper as he sat on the chair that was already waiting at the side of her bed. Her eyes opened slowly; her brown orbs looked dull in comparison to the brightness that always guided him home.

"Tara came to get you? I told her not to interrupt you at work. I'm fine." He wasn't buying it, even her voice sounded feeble. Had he gone home for lunch as she requested he would have picked up on her lackluster disposition and been there for her when she needed him.

Would he ever be rid of the cloak of guilt he wore, when it came to the people he loved?

"Yes, she did." He soothed her forehead with his hand. "What happened?"

"I put Judy down for her nap and the next thing I know this dark cloud hovered over me and I couldn't fight it…..I fainted." She replayed the imagery in her mind and remembered the dread she felt at not being able to control her body. "Thank God Tara came over to update me on Oceanside after her last visit. She got me here."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" She was a bit taken aback by his question, deciphering if there was any subtle impunity to it. She had been asking him to speak for days if not weeks about what was going on in his head to no avail. Yet he made her lack of communication feel like a disservice to their unity. Before she could speak Rosita approached them, a chart in her hand. She was the closest thing the Safe Zone had to a doctor. She spent some time interning with Doctor Carson at The Kingdom which yielded great results.

Their community was thriving; there were more homes being built and crops being cultivated. Their hospital was still a house with numerous beds but it did provide them with agency for minor and major incidents.

"How are you feeling?" Rosita asked checking her vital signs again.

"Much better. I think I probably need to eat. I skipped breakfast. Not having much of an appetite these days." She knew Rick would be part of the reason _why_ she wasn't eating. Concern for the man she loved was taking its toll.

Rick carried around guilt for the people they lost like a jaded lover, unable to let it go. He was stuck on it, thinking about what they'd loss. She told him before it wasn't his fault when people died. She wished this was one of those times he regurgitated her words back to her.

Daryl was gone, but they were still alive.

"Ok. Well I'll send you home only if Rick agrees to babysit you." Everyone knew Michonne was allergic to sitting still. She needed to move. Period.

"Done." He eyed her seriously, he had been away too long. His family needed him to keep an eye on them. It took Michonne's fainting for him to realise that. Had it been something worse, he would've never forgiven himself.

… **.**

A while later she began to gather herself off the bed, the promise of seeing her baby girl and her moody teen was motivation enough to move. A slight wave of dizziness hit her as she attempted to stand and she grabbed onto Rick. She played it off easily, attributing it to the fact she had been lying down for too long.

"Slow Michonne." Rosita warned. "Just for the chart, when was your last period?" Rosita already held a pen to mark the dates, waiting on Michonne's answer, but her response never came. Rick's hand paused on her back and so did she. She couldn't recall when was her last period. She sat down on the single bed slowly, jogging her memory for an honest answer. Rick eyed her with concern, he too couldn't recall the last time he'd been asked to massage her back or when he'd been chided for leaving clothes on the ground, as her cycle drew near. They had missed something.

Michonne's memory snapped back and she remembered it was right around the time Daryl died which was almost two months ago. Which implied she missed two periods and hadn't even noticed. She had gotten caught up in helping her family grieve, rebuilding their community and reconciling Daryl's death to herself.

She lost a brother that day too.

"Two months ago." She shared a coming to gaze with Rick. They had been making love most nights. It helped dull the pain of their loss and kept them connected physically even if they couldn't connect with emotional intimacy. Throw in her lack of appetite and dizziness and they had a good recipe for a baby. She couldn't believe the connection went over her head completely. She felt Rick grasp her hand as a form of solidarity. Whatever comes next, they would face it together.

"Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" Rosita asked as though the answer was already staring the three of them in the face.

"Yeah. I think there's a good chance of that." Rick was silent, which meant his mind was traveling at warp speed, concern marinating on his face.

"There are a few pregnancy tests here still. Expiration date isn't for at least three months. You wanna take a gander?" Right now it was the only way they would know.

Five minutes and two clear lines later her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

She was pregnant. She was going to have Rick's baby.

There had been a blessing in their burdens.

A new life in trade with the passing of another.

Rick looked shell shocked, even as tears burned his eyes. "A baby?" He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. He was mourning the loss of a life while he and Michonne created a tiny one. The circle of life was still applicable to the world they lived in.

He had been consumed by his grief and forgot this is why they fought, this is why they bled; so they could live.

"Michonne I'm sorry." His eyes were honest and she was relieved she could read him clearly for the first time in weeks. He remembered _he_ was the one thing she needed.

"For what?"

"For not being where I was needed. For not being as strong as you." His hand laid on her flat belly, caressing their baby inside. He felt humbled and more blessed than someone should be, even at the end of the world.

"You think I'm strong because I'm not grieving too? Daryl was like a brother to me. I miss him every day. He should've been here with us to -" she felt choked up. "I'm strong because that's what we do. When you're down, I gotta be up. I know you would do the same for me Rick." Her hands glided to his hair and she caressed him into a smile.

"I love you Michonne." She was right, as always. He saw the light, in her eyes he found no judgement, only love and hope. When he lost his footing she steadied him back. Whenever he grew weary she carried him. He wasn't entirely certain of the direction they were headed but even if they lost their way they would never lose each other.

"I love you Rick."

"We're adding to our family..." He still couldn't believe they were expecting. The more he spoke about it the more he felt it settle in his heart. Michonne was going to make him a father again. He smiled when he thought about how amazing she would look with a bump. She wouldn't lose the katana, she would be the Apocalypse version of Demi Moore. He was looking forward to this journey with an ardent desire to be in the present, every day with his family from here on out.

This is what Daryl would want for him, for them.

This is what they fought for. Fought and lost. Fought and won.

"We can do this." He made a decree because the woman he loved never fantasized about failing. Together she believed they could do anything.

Her words of affirmation had gotten him through some tough times since he'd known her.

"I know we can." She said and her tiredness seemed to be replaced with a glow that he couldn't help but bask in. It warmed him from the inside. He felt like he was returning from the dead.

"When do you think we should tell Carl and Judy?" She laughed heartily at his question, his bright countenance filling her with light and life. For once they weren't thinking about what they'd loss but what they had gained.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

 **This story was gripping from the first chapter when Tigerwalk took us through a detailed look at Rick's grief over his brother, Daryl's, death. Then we had Sophiasown showing Michonne's self sacrifice for her man and her family, even as she sheltered a baby unknown; sometimes there is triumph in tragedy.**

 **Now we have Cranesinthesky bringing everything to fruition with a look at the greatness of this tight knit family after all their grief. Cranes handles the ins and outs of the Grimes unit so intricately, and she ties everything up nicely with the last chapter.**

 **Don't forget to check out cranesinthesky's work on her FF. Net page.**

 **Stay tuned! We have a few more prompts by your faves on the way.**

 **-We're The Ones Who Write.**

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Chapter 3

Michonne smiled gently to herself as she felt that familiar kick that she felt every morning around this time, the morning greeting as she liked to call it. His greeting had started months ago, back when she felt that first flutter around the eighteen week mark, and it kept going every day from then. She looked forward to it and would even sometimes woke up before he did to wait for that special greeting.

In just a few short weeks, the movements would stop, but for an even better reason- he would be in her arms instead of inside her.

She felt the mattress dip behind her and then her husband's strong arms envelope her into a warm hug. He placed a tender kiss on her neck before gliding his hands down to her swollen belly, another morning tradition that occured every day before they left the safety of their bedroom. He would rub her belly and talk to their baby in that soothing voice that she would often hear him use with Judith when he told her stories at night and her heart instantly warmed at the thought of him holding the newest member of the family.

Even with all of the pain and loss at the end of the world, life still went on. And this new life that they were about to welcome was proof.

It had been seven months since they had lost Daryl. Their brother. A friend. Their family member. Rick and Michonne had both seen some darker days and took their time to heal. While it was still a process to get through, they were in a better state now. Rick talked more, opening up to Michonne about his thoughts and whatever else concerned him. And she listened, just like she always did.

She spoke to him as well. About how the loss affected her just as deeply as it did him. He gave her a chance to grieve. Daryl was with them through everything- the prison, Terminus, the road to Alexandria. She and Rick swapped stories, some the other had never heard before, each one invoking both laughter and tears. They healed together, holding each other up to make it through.

They chose to live and not let the grief and guilt consume them.

"I think I have a name for the baby," he whispered, placing his lips against the back of her neck.

"Oh yeah?" she chuckled in amusement. They had been throwing names back and forth over the course of her pregnancy, with some interesting suggestions from Carl, Judith and the rest of Alexandria, but hadn't quite been able to settle on one just yet. "What is it?"

"What about James?"

"James? I think it's a good contender, but-" she turned her head to face him. "You've only thought of boy names so far. What if it's a girl?"

"I just have a hunch that it's going to be a boy." He shrugged. "James sounds good for a girl, too."

She gave a playful smirk while he chuckled at his own response. "We'll add it to our list of maybes," she said, swiping a stray curl from off of his forehead. His blue eyes stared back at her, the same ones that were once filled with sadness and disappointment replaced with love and readiness. Ready to take on this next chapter of his life with his soulmate.

"Lil' ass kicker doesn't sound too bad either," he joked, a twinkle in his eye.

Michonne laughed and her whole body shook in his arms. She remembered Rick recall the story of when Daryl attempted to name Judith right before she ended up at the prison with the baby formula. "Amusing and a nice way to send tribute, but I don't think our son- or daughter- would appreciate it too much."

"I know it's a boy," he said as she turned in his arms, albeit slowly. His hands moved down to her stomach in between them, his fingers tracing over her soft, smooth skin with not a stretch mark in sight.

"Before Daryl died," he continued, no longer saying his name in a strained voice like he did before. "We talked about the future. About how we would move on after the war was over. He just wanted us to all have peace. He knew we couldn't go back to the way things were before, but we could try."

Michonne nodded. It was what they all wanted, what they fought for. And they got it. Their walls were stable. The houses were rebuilt. They could move freely between the communities now, with citizens from the Hilltop and the Kingdom visiting often and offering the essentials if needed. They all worked together and she was sure Daryl would be pleased with that.

"He would've been proud of you," she said, reaching over to cup his face.

"Proud of _us_ ," Rick stressed, making sure that she didn't leave herself out of the equation. If it wasn't for her, who knew where he would be right now? She had held him up during the tough times and continued to hold their family together through everything. She was their rock.

She smiled then, pulling him in for a kiss that turned into something deeper. His hands started to roam her body as the sunlight started pouring through the open curtains of the bedroom window. With Carl and Judith gone to the hilltop for the weekend to visit Maggie and the baby, the house was quieter than usual and gave them time to enjoy each other before their new arrival.

He started undressing her, removing the large t-shirt of his that she wore to bed every night. She could no longer fit her clothes from before so she resorted to wearing his clothing in which, he often admitted to her, looked better on her than it ever did on him. But he mostly enjoyed her in all of her naked glory, free to explore her body that he had memorized right down to the scar on her foot.

He felt her fingers make its way down to his boxers, gently urging them off as the heat began to rise in their bodies, their breaths labored. He continued to kiss her deeply, but pulled away when he realized that her movements had stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked. A tune of worry had entered his voice, hoping that he didn't hurt her in any way.

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth, confusing him even more. "I need to go to the infirmary. My water just broke."

Rick slowly made his way down the porch steps, his boots clomping with each step he took. It was early out, the sun barely risen as he made his way towards the back of the community. He continued to walk slow, careful with the small, wrapped bundle of joy in his arms.

He smiled lovingly at his new baby boy, who was fast asleep and oblivious to his surroundings. He was nestled safely in his father's arms, his dark hair covered with a white knit cap that was received as a gift from the Kingdom. Per Michonne's schedule, he would wake up for a feeding in the next hour or so and his shining blue eyes- his father's eyes- would take in the world around him curiously.

James. Michonne had finally settled on Rick's choice for a name after seeing their baby for the first time, holding him in her arms. "It felt right," she had said. It wasn't until a few days later did they find out the meaning of his name- the one who follows.

Rick gave him a kiss on the cheek before stopping a few feet away from their destination. He sighed as he looked up at the wall that kept their community safe. While the rest of the walls had been destroyed by Negan and the saviors, this was the one wall that stood through the war and turmoil. It was battered with a few scars, but it still stood strong. Just like the citizens that it shielded from the outside world.

It was the same wall where Daryl and Rick had stood and drawn out their plans for their attack on Negan. Rick and Michonne decided to keep it in memory of him. As a reminder of all they had fought for. That this community was now theirs again- just theirs. No one else would take it from them.

They could have it all. And they did.

James moved slightly in his sleep, his face scrunching up as if he was about to wail. Rick gently rocked him and instantly started to hum, a trick that seemed to work so far on the one month old baby. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn't hear Michonne walk up beside him and laid her hand on his forearm.

"There you are," she said softly, reaching out to rub her finger across her son's cheek.

"I was just showing him the community," Rick said. "He's going to run it someday with Carl and Judith. Figured he should get used to it."

"He has a long while before that happens."

Michonne gazed over at the wall, her eyes catching the dedication plaque that Rosita had designed for their fallen friend. They knew Daryl wouldn't have cared or asked for anything like that, but it was something they thought that he deserved and for future generations to know all that they had lost in order for them to get a chance to live.

But Daryl's name wasn't the only name on there. Glenn, Abraham, Sasha and the rest of their fallen family were added as well in remembrance. They would be remembered for years to come and Judith, Hershel, Jr. and James would hear stories of these brave warriors each and every day of their lives.

"Hey," Rick said softly, reaching for her hand. She smiled up at him and rested her head on his shoulder, holding tightly onto his hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded confidently. For the first time in a long time, she felt peace… and it was a great feeling. "I'm perfect."

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on her fingers, never growing tired of the feel of her skin and touch. He looked down at their son and then back at porch where Carl was reading Judith a book on the porch swing.

They had fought for this and won. They were perfect indeed.


End file.
